Past
by Gypsy Feet
Summary: Will asks Jack about his father on the way back to Port Royal after the fight in the caves. He learns things he didn't know. Which is usually what happens when someone answers a question... xONESHOTx


**Past**

**By: Emmy**

**Disclaimer: The word 'disclaimer' kinda says it, don't it?**

**A/N: Yeah just a short oneshot about that small space of time between the fight at the caves and the hangman's part. I think they're in character, but I'm not positive, so I guess you'll all have to review and tell me.**

**Warning: Ah… there is reference to the way cabin boys were treated back in the times when child molestation and rape wasn't something that was taken as seriously as it is now.**

William Turner winced as another whimper erupted from the man curled up in a tight, frightened ball to his right. It had been a while since the Captain's dreams had turned from pleasant women infested ones to darker, more disturbing nightmares. Will knew this because, though sleeping light meant one was always alert, it also meant that one reacted more physically to them. Which, in turn, meant that he had heard half mumbled pick-up lines turn to desperate pleas to be left alone.

Mr Turner sat and listened to Jack Sparrow as he faced past demons and contemplated waking the man. But Will, despite popular belief, was not a stupid man and knew that waking someone suffering a nightmare was dangerous to one's immediate welfare.

"Please don't Pleasedon't pleasedon'tleavemealonepleasedon't."

A hand was cast out to defend the sleeping man from whatever antagonist that resided in the man's imagination.

Will did not particularly like the man, but he also knew that no-one, no matter what they did, should be subject to relive the past every time he closed his eyes. So, before self-preservation had a second to interrupt and inform him that he was stupid, he rolled on his side and shook the older man with two sharp jolts.

Immediately eyes shot open and muscles strained from where they were pinned to defend himself; but Will held tight and spoke quickly and gently.

"It's alright, don't worry, it's the year 1675 and you're on your way to Port Royal."

The panic that had filled those brown orbs disappeared behind studied boredom with the blink of sleepy eyes.

"In the brig of the Dauntless and when we reach Port I'll be sent to good ol' Charles and hang around for quite awhile. Nothing to worry about, eh?"

It was sarcastic and rude but reassuringly Sparowish at the same time. Will forced himself to smile politely, something that he'd taught himself at a young age, and got off from where he'd been straddling the Captain in an attempt to remain in one piece.

"You were a cabin boy too?"

Maybe not the best use of the English language, but he wanted to remind this strange man of exactly what he'd been saved from dreaming about. There was a pause in which the Captain looked distinctly uncomfortable, back to the hull and staring at his hands as if they fascinating, before there was a curt nod.

"My da needed the money to look after Tess an' Fanny," he offered.

Well, Will definitely hadn't been expecting to receive an explanation. Not that he was about to complain, conversation was a good way to distract himself from his less then thrilling chances of surviving the month.

"Oh…" was he meant to offer something too? Was this a give what you get sort of conversation? Never mind, he might as well say something, the conversation would die otherwise. "I only joined for the crossing."

There was a pause in which the man looked mildly surprised. "You were going to desert?"

Another pause. "Yes."

Then Sparrow grinned at him, like he'd said something highly intelligent.

"Odd… you never quite struck me as the man that did anything to get what he wants but… really, that's all you've ever done, in'nit?"

Will didn't like being told that because it was the truth and he didn't want it to be. So he changed the subject.

"You said you knew my father… what was he like?"

"Bill?" William bit back a harsh retort at that needless question and nodded anyway, only to notice the pirate wasn't paying any attention to him. Instead he was chewing his grimy thumbnail in thought. "Well, him an' me, we go way back, when I was just a lad on my first voyage, he ah, he 'ad a word with the Captain about the second mate and his apparent infatuation with me.

"Not that the Captain cared, actually" his words were filled with venomous anger now, "he joined in a couple of times. But you don't need to know that really" this was said in self chastisement, accented with a self-conscious blush. "Anyways, when the Captain didn't pay any heed he, ah, kept me at close quarters, never left me by meself unless absolutely necessary. He got a lot of slack for that though," the anger that had slipped away as he spoke of his long lost companion was returning now, almost worse then before, "It was quiet at first, they were all smiles and cheer and then whispered when he 'ad his back turned. They said he was keepin' me fer himself, and slowly they grew bolder an' bolder."

"He took it like a saint though, and every time someone 'accidentally' tripped him up or didn't come to relieve him from his dogwatch he just put away in his head."

Will was fighting the increasing feeling that he was somehow intruding on something very private. Indeed, the pirate wasn't even acknowledging him anymore. Will wondered if perhaps Jack Sparrow was lost in his memories, he found that he did that sometimes.

"By the time we reached Africa he an' I snuck off and lay low for a month. By the time they sold their goods and picked up another load they'd given up on finding us. We had a very… interesting time there" A smile flickered over his face at a memory that he chose not to voice, "long and short of it is we ended up sailing under the Jolly Roger. The men, they weren't half so bad as the merchants. Don't get me wrong," he paused with a slight grin that resembled affectionate disgust, "they were all bastards, but they followed the code and taught me what I needed to know. About a month in we caught up wit' me an' Bill's old friends. It was my first sea battle, and I can tell you now that I was scared right silly. We came in, gave them a good few blows and offered them a chance at surrender. The Captain said he wouldn't suffer the shame, even though we out-gunned them and had more men. It – it was a massacre. When we boarded, half the men were already dead and, I saw _him_ and that was that. Bill was the same, except he managed to not get shot. I don't remember much, I think I killed three before the bastard shot me. It wasn't fair game, I was still just a lad and hadn't much battle smarts yet. I woke up from the fever three weeks later with your Pa asleep beside me."

And all of a sudden the story stopped and Jack Sparrow closed off with an angry frown. Will knew he'd heard too much, seen too much emotion.

"That wasn't fair." Sparrow complained with a slight pout.

Will smiled at him, but it held no amusement. He glanced at the bandage he had on his hand and then at the one on Jack's.

"I guess I'm just a filthy pirate. Like you."

It wasn't said with much venom, for young William Turner wasn't sure if he was proud of the fact or not.

"No you're not," Sparrow replied breezily, "You are actually quite clean, considering, and" he paused for dramatic effect "You need a hat to be a pirate. One with a really nice feather."

Will stared at Jack's bare head and remembered the sadly absent weather-beaten hat.

"Yours doesn't" he noted.

"I don't _need _a feather," Sparrow replied in an offended tone. "I'm the king of pirates! I don't need a silly little feather to pronounce that I'm a bad egg."

Will wasn't entirely sure what that was meant to mean, but he didn't complain because he hadn't been thinking about the future all this time.

No, he'd been far too busy trying to ignore the fact that maybe he might actually _like_ the man sitting next to him.


End file.
